


jason narrowly avoids the wrath of marvin

by pishpash



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, Falsettos - Lapine/Finn (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Angst?, Autistic Character, Autistic Male Character, Not Proofread, Poor Everyone, poor Marvin, poor jason]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:47:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pishpash/pseuds/pishpash
Summary: Marvin gets Jason on the weekends, which coincidentally is also when most of his mental breakdowns take place.





	jason narrowly avoids the wrath of marvin

“Get that fucking pencil out of your goddamn mouth,” Says Marvin before he clears his throat. His face is flushed and his coat is hung on the lounge chair. Whizzer always insisted on coats being hung on the coatrack. Marvin always abided by that rule once Whizzer kissed him. I thought that was such an odd trade-off. Those things were equal in Marvin’s head even though they were completely unrelated. Maybe that’s a Marvin-thing. “Jason, dearie,” He says in a mocking voice, “I told you to get that fucking pencil out of your mouth before I do myself,” Mendel tells me everybody has their things, like how I rock in my seat or how Trina rubs her left palm with her right index finger when we’re waiting at Marvin’s doorstep. Last time Marvin came to dinner at the Jew-Weisenbachfeld household he vowed not to swear. Marvin’s word never translates to the present day, as whenever Whizzer quotes something Marvin has said in the past, he is met with denial and complaints. Marvin picked up the nearest thing. A small coffee-table book, likely won’t do much damage. He tosses it, hitting me square in the chest. I get up immediately and head to my room, taking my room’s key off of the key rack on my way so I can lock the door.

Once the door is locked, the routine feels like instinct. I head to the wall, ball up my hand and knock on it approximately 15 times before I hear my father apoligizing and begging for me to open the door. I knock 4 more times before the apartment’s door is presumably swung open. I hear Dr. Charlotte’s voice. Giving her a key was one of the best decisions Marvin has made, saving me in many situations I’ve been unsure to face myself. I open my window knowing that Cordelia is waiting to talk to me from the window next door. I heard Dr. Charlotte speaking to Marvin through the thin walls.

“What’s up?” Cordelia’s voice is hoarse.

“You belong in a stable,” I quip. Mendel says jokes lighten the mood and Cordelia’s often happy atmosphere was replaced with a pensive tone, making it feel appropriate.

“Okay. What’s happening in there?” I feel a breeze against my knees which I’ve hung outside of the open window. Whizzer always kept me from doing this, but if God decided he’d die, Whizzer’s definition of danger was likely spotty. I absentmindedly pick at a scab on my shin, staring at the streetlamps underneath the window. The sidewalks are near-empty as lights illuminate the city. A pedestrian’s glowing phone rings in their hand. The “city that never sleeps” phrase feels like such a lie as my eyes dance around the empty cityscape. I sigh, seeing my white breath appear seconds after, obstructing my view near-completely.

“Bud?” Cordelia adds.

“Yelling. I don’t know why.” I lie. It’s easier to lie, sometimes. When you’re 13 and autistic, people tend to mark off odd or unreasonable actions as he’s 13 and autistic rather than he’s lying. It’s so simple that I don’t know how even Marvin’s “BS-spotting Charlotte” hasn’t caught on.

“Sorry ‘bout that, bud. Hey, how about Char and I take you to the movie theater tomorrow, huh? ‘At sound good?” Cordelia’s sounds like she’s trying to care. The effort doesn’t go unnoticed, so I decide not to shut her down. A sad Cordelia is a difficult sight, plus Charlotte would kill me.

“Yeah. Thanks, Aunt ‘Delia. Can I sleep at your place?” I knew Marvin wouldn’t be able to tell me he couldn’t, and that Cordelia was in a right enough mind not to leave me home alone with a drunk.

“Oh, I don’t know,” The streets were still packed, courtesy of Whizzer’s admittedly bad apartment choice. An influx of motorcycles sped through the streets, two people per ‘cycle and nobody wore kneepads, let alone helmets as Mom tells me I have to with a regular scooter. We remained in silence until Charlotte knocked on my bedroom door. I closed the window before Cordelia could speak and spoke to Charlotte on the other side of the door.

“What’s the password?” I say, bringing my ear to the keyhole as Charlotte speaks in a hushed voice.

“Password,” Charlotte says. The idea had been Cordelia’s, and I deemed it perfect and near-impossible to bypass. Mendel says the best answers were hidden in plain sight. I got the key and quickly unlocked the door with my coat and backpack in my arms, pre-packed with essentials for moments like this, half jogging to Charlotte and Cordelia’s apartment, assuming that it’d be understood that I wasn’t sleeping anywhere near Marvin, at least not tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> of course my first fic is of falsettos sksksk
> 
> hopefully i didnt overdo jason or make jason seem like an inherently bad character. i promise i didn't mean to do my poor boy wrong,.
> 
> sorry this is short rip


End file.
